Flash Fic
by primarycolors
Summary: 300 words based on a weekly prompt from The Lemonade Stand. All ratings apply!
1. Against the Wall

The challenge: interpret the prompt in 300 words or less. I've really enjoyed this because I haven't had time to work on something larger. Check out The Lemonade Stand for a new prompt every Friday. (tehlemonadestand dot net) You have until Wednesday to submit your 300 words... anyone can enter!

Good seeing y'all. None of these are beta'd but you can thank faireyfan for shouting YES ;)

* * *

"There you are."

There was an edge to his mouth, a touch of savagery in the way it curved into a smile. He had her cornered in this dark section of the hospital, long closed for the weekend. The buzzing of her office party was non-existent thanks to the maze of hallways where she'd gotten herself lost in a pathetic dash to find the parking deck.

Edward stared at her, waiting and Bella felt as if she were desperately trying to remember the answer to some unasked question. He took a step forward when she took a step back, his eyes dropping to where she wobbled on her heels.

Her hair had come loose, the strands clinging wetly to her cheeks. Breathless and unblinking, she bit her lip, a metallic burn that made his nostrils flare.

"Sweetheart, you shouldn't have run," he told her, voice low and urgent, his smirk faded. "You know what that does to me." His eyes were wild, the darkness churning with faint hints of red. Her hands fluttered uselessly at her throat.

"No." She shook her head violently, hearing a sob, hysterical, frantic and knew it was herself.

Pain and terror, shameful arousal.

The feelings was torn from a place so deeply buried inside her that she thought if she could see it, it would a mess of sticky blood and frantic beating heart, the fear seeping out of her and pooling hotly at her feet.

"Please," she cried. "I can't—"

"You can. Your body betrays you," he growled, a guttural sound caught between humanity and the animal within. "All your defiant noises mean nothing." His hand pressed between her legs, pinning her to the wall.

She shuddered, her eyes focused on his.

"Good girl," he whispered, baring his teeth. "You're a very good girl."


	2. The Couch

"I can't remember anything without you," he said, sighing. "You've always been there."

The threadbare cushion felt rough under her fingers. She'd always hated that couch, hated the color and how it sagged in the middle, how on rainy days it smelled like the dog. But the subtle transition between worn smooth and nubby was mesmerizing and she couldn't stop rubbing back and forth.

"What do you mean?" she asked, not looking at him, scratching now with her thumbnail.

"I love our life but I think there's a difference between genuinely loving someone and loving certain things about them. And that it's easy to confuse the two." He glanced at her with a small smile and she felt herself flush, embarrassed that the unbecoming purplish-red was staining her chest.

Her hands left the couch and twisted together. "I still don't understand what you mean. Are you saying you're not happy? You just said you loved our life."

"I don't understand it either," he whispered to the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

It had never occurred to her that a person could feel two different ways about anything, like Edward seemed to feel about his life. So she shoved the knowledge down deep inside, where she pushed all the things she'd never learned to deal with.

"Let's buy a new couch," she said brightly. "Pottery Barn is having a sale."

"Tanya, for God's sake, listen." He stared at her. "It's time we went our separate ways." He took her hand. "I've met someone else. I'm leaving."

She nodded, shrugging. Last night's stars had given way to this morning's lowering clouds. The air was heavy and thick, and she felt as though she'd been caught underwater. She couldn't speak, her throat was so full but her chest felt hollowed out, hollow and empty.


	3. Baseball

He was seventeen when she met him, all loose limbs and sweat and red dirt, a faded Cubbies shirt, baseball cap spun backwards while the pitching machine hummed. His jaw edged so dark she could almost feel the sandpaper rasp on her fingers, hair damp and curled up the sides of his hat, the pink of his tongue wet as he tensed for the next pitch.

She stood shy behind the bleachers. Breathless.

"Come here," he'd called softly, watching her too.

He made a show of twirling the bat before solemnly pointing it into the sunset. "For you," he said, winking, when a tremendous crack echoed around the field and then the ball was soaring, soaring into infinity and she bet no one ever found it.

They were lying on his bed when she asked why he always did that, what it meant to point his bat toward the heavens.

"To infinity and beyond," he'd answered, green eyes playful. A Sharpie cap bobbed from the corner of his mouth as he drew a tiny baseball on her stomach. "It's my thing... like a promise. I aim, then I hit a home run." He'd shrugged and nibbled his artwork.

Two years later she watches TV as she packs away her childhood. Youngest player ever to be signed, ESPN says. 9.9 million for five years.

She swallows hard, wondering how much of him she'll be able to keep. If any.

"They called me Roy Hobbs," he says, shining, bursting through the doorway. "The best that ever was."

"Way cuter than Robert Redford," she adds with a watery smile, loving him too much. "To infinity."

He sobers suddenly, his gaze holding a promise so rich her heart twists, almost afraid to hope.

"And beyond," he whispers, pulling her in, kissing, pressing a ring into her palm.


	4. Lie to Me Again

We were always outside when the streetlights lit up, prowling the neighborhood in a pack of banana seat bikes and skateboards, popping wheelies behind the mosquito truck, light-headed and silly, laughing as we sped past the cemetery.

Edward and I rested on the hill behind the gas station, letting the others go.

I was glad I'd left my hair loose. Sometimes, if I stood close enough, Edward curled his fingers 'round the ends. I'd loved him forever and he probably knew it, but nothin' had ever been said or done.

"What'd y'have for dinner?" Edward asked, squinting into the sky like he couldn't care less. He did though. He liked to live vicariously through my dinnertimes since he never had a proper sit-down himself, his mom working so much.

"Daddy's outa town," I answered. "Em said I could do whatever I wanted so long as I don't blab that his girlfriend is sleeping over in his room." I cut my eyes over. "Maybe I'll stay out all night. Smoke cigarettes and have Krispy Kreme for dinner."

"Nah you won't," he said, laughing.

"I will!" I punched him on the arm for emphasis.

He sat up suddenly, holding my hand tight to keep me from hitting him again. My stomach flipped at the way he leaned over me, eyes bright.

"You won't. You're so…" he trailed off, swallowing hard.

"What?" I frowned. "Goody-goody? I'm not, I—"

"Pretty," he said softly. "You're so pretty."

"Stop! That's a lie, Edward Cullen." My face was hot.

He shook his head, bemused. "If you say so."

"Alright then," I whispered. "Lie to me again."

Leaning close to my ear, "I love you."

"But-"

"Shh," he said, kissing the corner of my mouth. "Forgot to mention it's opposite day."

"So that means—"

"Not a lie."


	5. Going to the Movies

She'd stopped chewing, mouth hanging open, salt from the popcorn burning her tongue.

"Are we…umm." She was finding it hard to finish a sentence, or even a complete thought, her mind so consumed with the frantic couple on the movie screen. "Is this the right…"

Edward frowned. "I'd thought so," he whispered, shifting in his seat. "But I… Wow."

Running late, they'd ducked into theater 10, giggling, spilling snacks on the multicolored carpet, assuming the gritty black and white scene was a trailer for some foreign film. French, maybe. Only they couldn't be sure. There hadn't been any words.

The man had the woman pressed up against a window now, pounding into her from behind. Breath frosted across the glass as she panted, fingers splayed, moans mingling with the wet sounds of sex.

Bella bit her lip hard. Every muscle in her body was strung tight, her heart racing.

On the screen, another man was watching the couple from the doorway, slowly unbuckling his belt.

"Fuck," Edward said in a strangled voice. He pressed Bella's hand to the front of his jeans, groaning when she rubbed lightly. "Come here."

"But—"

"Theater's empty," he said hoarsely, throwing the armrest out of the way, dragging her onto his lap. He draped her legs on the outside of his and pulled her back against his chest, one hand pushing inside her panties, the other already under her bra, pinching, pulling. "Watch," he murmured into her ear, breath hot against her cheek.

The couple had finally made it to the bed, unsurprised when the second man crawled up beside them. Both men were on their knees, one fucking her pussy, the other fucking her mouth.

Edward bit her neck when she came all over his fingers.

"You liked that, didn't you? Naughty girl."


	6. POW

A bump and his stomach rolls. The plane races over uneven ground. He has a ghost of a headache; his armpits are sour, his tongue coated with slime. He presses his nose against the window and sees nothing but darkness. No runway lights. No moon.

"Hey," the lieutenant says. "Hey."

Edward glances at the guy next to him, big and friendly, dimples, laugh lines.

"We'll be at the base soon, alright? Get you cleaned up, get you home. They're calling your family right now, man. You've been all over the news." He pats Edward on the shoulder, wincing at the glazed look in his eyes. "You gotta girl at home?"

Edward squeezes the metal seat beneath his leg, rubs the mosquito bites on his arm.

Minutes or hours pass.

"Wife," he whispers, the profound darkness swallowing his words.

"Yeah?" The lieutenant smiles. "Bet she's pretty. You'll have some story to tell, maybe you'll win the Pulitzer or somethin'." He shrugs. "Whatever it is you journalists win."

Edward thinks about the month he'd been gone on his first assignment, years ago as a graduate student. How she'd waited hours at the Cambridge station for his return. Not caring who saw her run full tilt like a maniac and leap into his arms, cheeks wet with happiness.

_"You've been gone too long,"_ she'd whispered, kissing his neck.

"How long?" he asks suddenly.

"Thought they told you. Been 'bout 23 months," the lieutenant answers. "You were never assumed dead though… just missing."

There is no air.

Edward rakes his fingers through his hair, digs at his scalp, heart thrashing madly in his ribs. He wants to stand; he wants to walk. To run.

God. Two years.

"Whoa now, hold on." The lieutenant grabs his shoulders. "It'll be fine, I promise. What's her name?"

"Bella." A prayer, as he slumps against the hard curve of the plane. "Bella."


	7. Sir

Hi :) Just to be clear, these chapters are not related at all. Though I appreciate the readers who've tried to make a coherent story out of this. Sorry for the headaches! lol

Lots of you liked the last chapter and wondered if Bella would be waiting after two years. So the good news is I've been thinking about it and now it won't leave me alone. ;)

I wrote this next one quickly- and now it makes me laugh.

Thanks for reading, y'all.

* * *

It was so quiet, nothing but the gulls, the crash of waves. All the workers were gone.

"I gave them the afternoon off," Edward explained, opening the car door.

Bella blinked. "Why?"

She didn't wait for an answer though, her phone lit up with a text.

"Put that away and come inside," he called, walking away.

What was to become their master bedroom smelled of sawdust and sunshine, brine from the sea breeze and… wine, oysters… roses?

She was speechless, even as his arms came around her from behind.

"Happy anniversary baby," he murmured, kissing her neck sweetly.

Despite the incomplete state of the house, Edward had managed to transform the upstairs into a wonderland of white… soft billowing sheets instead of plastic tarps, an ivory down comforter rippled soft across the floor. A ladder holding a leather tool belt stood guard over the unfinished stairs.

"I thought I'd misplaced that," Bella frowned down at the bedspread. Her phone buzzed impatiently and she moved to answer it.

Edward sighed. "That's it. Give it to me," he said abruptly, holding out his hand.

"Wait a minute," she started, "I—"

"Now."

"But—"

His chin lifted slightly. "What was that…?"

Something inside her went still, limp, the stern look in his eyes sending quivers through to her toes. "Oh," she whispered. "Yes, Sir."

He powered the phone down, flung it across the room. "Get undressed, Isabella. I've been more than patient." The corners of his eyes crinkled, but his gaze held heat, not laughter. Her hands trembled as she pulled off her shirt, letting the warmth of his eyes soak into her body.

"Which way would you like me, Sir?" she breathed, stepping out of her panties.

"Now that I have your attention, lie down on your back." A smile curved his lips. "Arms up and don't move them."

She swallowed, whispering, "It will be my pleasure, Sir."


	8. Babysitting

This one's a little naughty. Don't ask me why I'm embarrassed about this one and not the one in the movie theater. Go figure. ;)

All the entries this week were fabulous- do yourself a favor and go check out the lemonade stand's flashfic winners: tehlemonadestand dot net

That way you can see the picture prompt!

ALSO- I'm a judge for the upcoming Make Me Laugh fic contest... I can't wait to read all the entries! The picture prompts are hysterical. Go here: makemelaughcontest dot blogspot dot com for more info. :)

Thanks for reading kiddos! xo

* * *

She pulls the popcorn out of the microwave and smirks over her shoulder. "I'm not wearing panties."

"Shut up."

"Go ahead and check," she says, leveling her devastating gaze at me. Her hair floats like a cloud, the sunset behind glowing red, framing her beautiful face in the square kitchen window.

Fuck, I love her.

"Maybe I will," I shoot back.

"Kids!" she yells, not moving her eyes, daring me. "Popcorn's ready!" She bends down, kisses two little noses. "Go on and start the movie, okay? Auntie Bella needs to talk to Mr. Edward for a minute."

* * *

"Hurry… come here…"

"Fuck, baby…" I gasp as she pulls up slow, slams down fast. "That's it... ride me, beautiful."

"We don't have long…"

Bella likes to fuck hard until we're both sopping wet, then she pulls away so she can lick herself off my dick.

"Damn, I'll never get tired of seeing that."

She looks up, half lidded, lazy. Her tongue swirls and I'm dizzy.

"Let me taste you," I whisper, pulling her mouth to mine. "And get back on my dick so I can make you come."

"So close…" she whines, throwing her head back. Her thighs tremble. "We need to hurry."

I rub her clit, suck her nipple into my mouth, salty, sweet, I bite and she clenches, sobs, her eyes squeeze shut. "Ohohoh, Edward, oh fuck…"

Heat punches low in my belly as she pinches her own nipples, that vision sending me over the fucking edge.

"Auntie!" A little voice shrieks. "I'm telling!"

I can't believe how fast she scrambles off me, throws on my t-shirt.

"You little sneak!"

"I'm telling Mommy you put your mouth on Mr. Edward's peepee!"

I watch from the window, laughing.

He makes it all the way to the front yard before she catches him.


	9. North Star

Thanks to The Lemonade Stand for the prompt :)

and you guys... thanks for reading

not beta'd

* * *

She laughed at his seriousness.

Sixteen and all tangled up, she twirled, star gazing through treetops.

"I want a love that breathes meaning into life!" she screamed into the night. "A love that wants happiness above all else, no matter the cost." Her words sprouted wings, twinkling into the sky like fireflies. "Do you believe in that kind of love, Edward?"

Spellbound, his heart clamored wild and uncertain.

"Oh, but you're only thirteen," she laughed again, floating down to earth to kiss his nose. "How would you know?"

But he did know. The stars counted how many times he'd dreamed of her, infinite, never-ending. He is a supernova; fated to burn and die and be born again.

She spins around and he is a North Star, knowing as long as he breathed he would love her.

* * *

The scandal was legendary, whispers and shock, a cake that would never be eaten.

He ran, just him, because the trees hid secret places only they knew.

Twenty-eight and she's beautiful still, even broken and wet-eyed, sprawled in the grass. Her white satin sparkled in the few sunbeams that had survived the twisted canopy of leaves.

"I'm sorry," he said, out of breath. He jerked his bow tie and threw it on the ground.

"It doesn't feel real..." slowly, her voice faint. "Everything's muffled, in a mist. I feel like water draining through too much sand."

Dropping to his knees, he lifted her chin.

"Don't." She wiped under her eyes. "I was pretty an hour ago."

He shook his head, kissing her fingertips.

"He didn't love me," she cried, "not really. I only saw what I wanted to see." Her head lay soft against his shoulder. "Why didn't I believe you?"

He sighed.

"Edward." Sniffing, she trembled against him. "Will you stay?"

"Always," he whispered. "I've been here the whole time."


End file.
